come_sailaway | sunshine, you're the best time i ever, ever had

Entry tags:

sunshine, you're the best time i ever, ever had

Who: Marc Spector and you
When: Early June
Where: Various locations
Summary: Just trying to get his sea legs, so to speak.
Warnings: Some cursing, some references to substance abuse. Nothing major. Will update later if needed!

I. a little shopping trip

It's the restless urge to be up and doing something that has him browsing through the shop, maybe grabbing a chocolate bar, browsing through the paperbacks. He's not really one to read all that often, but-- there's Steven and maybe he's trying to decide on a book or two to bring back to their cabin and leave inconspicuously on the bed so he can begin hoarding up a new room. It won't be French poetry or books on the Gods, but... honestly. Screw the gods. He'd rather read some trash paperback about some bosomy chick and her dangerous ex-soldier solving some mystery and falling for each other or whatever any day.

When he's not staring down whatever trash novels are in this place, he's plucking up a few extra toiletries on the way out, maybe a few pain meds for any unfortunate hangovers he might acquire along the way.

He might turn a curious eye to anyone who's in there with him and ask, "Does anyone actually see how this stuff's restocked?"

Or who keeps this shit clean and dust free or whatever. Yeah, yeah, ghosts or whatever. But there's got to be more behind it, right?

II. let's hit the sauna

Self-care might come in the form of alcohol and other substances for Marc, maybe the odd brawl here or there, but here he is, trying a little bit of a healthier way at the spa. It's a good thing there aren't any massages -- he'd not be interested in them anyway. But the sauna? Oh, yeah. He can get behind that.

Really get behind it. Marc finds a time when it seems to be empty enough that he can stretch out with his towel spread out over his lap, eyes shut. Fake some of that peace and quiet he's never truly known in his head, maybe.

It's when someone comes in that he seems to go back to alert, sitting up a bit straighter and clearing his throat. "Oh-- uh. Sorry."

He'll even scoot over to give plenty of space to whoever decides to join him.

III. big pills, little pills

Somehow, Marc ends up int he infirmary. Well, not just... by chance. He's curious, just in case he ever needs to perform surprise minor surgery on himself or needs a hit of something stronger when the alcohol isn't enough to knock him out or bury the bad memories.

That doesn't mean he doesn't scowl a bit at some of the-- medieval torture devices, er, medical supplies. "What the fuck is this thing?"

Do they... do they do lobotomies around here still? Bleed people with fucking leeches, what?

But once he finds the pills, he seems to perk up a little bit. "Hey, they got some of the good stuff..."

Guess who's gonna be sleeping a little easier tonight?

IV. tauva

Maybe this isn't his type of joint, generally, but he's finding himself enjoying the atmosphere... and the whiskey doesn't hurt it either. Better than the place that keeps playing Billy Joel too, in his opinion. He might be huffing out a quiet laugh when he picks up a bottle with yet another weird date he's pretty sure is a lie. Whatever. It could have been back from the beginning of time and he's not gonna be choosy.

"Hey," he'll start if he notices someone close enough with an empty glass. "You want a refill?"

Never let it be said he can't be nice on occasion.

V. wildcard

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Steven eventually rolls over, does a 180, and they're not exactly spooning anymore, with Marc lying on his back and Steven sneaking an arm around the front of his chest, sliding one leg in between Marc's. They wouldn't have had to be this close in his flat if they came back from the Duat like this somehow and Marc had to share his bed, but it's been comforting after... well. Everything.

They haven't really talked. About dying. About the things that he'd seen in the psych ward. If he could hold Marc all day and all night and all day and a few nights more, he would. He doesn't expect Marc to talk much during their dinner but at least they can sit together and he can make sure Marc is eating and Steven would be comfortable talking about anything he wants without being worried about crossing lines or looking for common ground.

"I can pull the couch out, if you feel I'm crowding you in. But I like having you close." He feels... safe, somewhat. And Marc could probably use the company. He's not sleeping well either. "I'm worried if I'm still-- doing weird things in my sleep."

One arm is folded behind Marc's head while the other moves to... slowly settle around Steven when he decides to follow him, settle around him. There's a lot they've got to talk about.

But Marc-- doesn't want to talk about the psych ward, or the dying, or... any of it. They'll have to, eventually. He's pretty sure that Steven will bring it up again, whether he wants him to or not. But maybe they can get through dinner and just-- enjoy each other's company. Just not worry for one night. He wants that for Steven at least.

"I didn't say I felt like that, did I?" He's a little worried though -- that he'll have a nightmare, Steven will end up kicked or punched or just have to hear him shout in his sleep. That could be just as true on the pull out couch though, so what's the point in it?

"I won't let you wander off, Steven... you don't need the cuff. Alright?" He shrugs. "Unless you're just into that sort of thing, I guess."

"What? No. That's not-- not me. Well I don't-- know, actually. Haven't... tried. Anything like that. Not sure if I'd like it. Seems like it might hurt. But also be a bit. Fun? Maybe?" Steven clears his throat and tries changing the subject.

"I'm not used to having anyone over, that's all. Let alone in bed. It's a little cozy and... missing a few comforts from home. But-- anyway. You were complaining it was a little cluttered anyway." And Steven... agrees to some degree. He did have a lot of stuff. Thinking about trying to get rid of some of his stuff stressed him out a bit.

This cabin is a little too sterile for him, and probably too cozy for Marc. But maybe they'll be able to find some middle ground here. Steven could maybe just borrow a corner to make himself comfortable in while leaving the rest of the place pristine and ~~lifeless~~ tidy for Marc.

Edited 2022-06-02 06:43 (UTC)

He actually lets out a short chuckle at the response, giving his shoulder a brief, firm rub. Fine-- he'll quit it. Let the guy have a break for a bit. "You'll figure it out."

One way or another. Hopefully.

"A little? Steven, your place is a fire hazard." But if he had it his way, he'd take him back there in a heart beat... even if it meant he'd not-- get to see him like this anymore, couldn't see him outside of a reflection in a mirror. If it meant Steven got to go back to his simple life? Worth it.

But that's not in the cards, so no reason dwelling on wishes that aren't likely to come true. "But you'll get this place lived in, I'm sure... however long we're here."

Guy's got a little bit of a hoarding issue and Marc had being clean and organized drilled into his head in service. It's gonna be-- maybe an issue. "... You were, uh. Pretty pissed at me back at the psych ward, you know," he finally murmurs after a moment.

Even after Steven sacrificing his himself like an idiot for Marc, he hadn't thought-- well, bedsharing was really in the picture.

"It's not! That's so rude. I have a few worldly possessions because I've lived my life, thank you very much!" Maybe he doesn't need a thousand books but he has enjoyed most of them, and he's got a system going on. He knows which shelves contain the books he hasn't read yet and which ones have all his archaeology titles and which one houses his French collection.

Anyway, it's not like he can just start collecting books here again. He'll just have to contend with frequent visits to the library, where he hasn't found any non-fiction titles just yet to satisfy his voracious appetite for learning more and more interesting things about all sorts of different topics throughout history.

"I was. I am. I'm still angry with you." It's a quiet admission, but it doesn't stop Steven from wanting to touch and play with Marc's hand, and wanting to be close to him. Steven sulks about it now just thinking about how lousy Marc made him feel.

"You lied to me. You-- did things to make me think I was crazy, question my reality. All this time I-- I thought-- Look, it doesn't ma'er what I thought. I just-- It would have been better if you were honest. If there was sand on the bed or-- torn blue tape."

"Steven, your entire flat is full of books. When was the last time you even swept, man?" How can he tolerate sand around the bed constant? Possessions are one thing! Being a hoarder is something else entirely.

But he does feel kinda bad that he doesn't have any of his books about gods or archeology or French poetry. He knows how much all that meant to him.

He lets Steven talk for right now, lets him play with his hand "... I thought you were better off if I wasn't in your life."

Maybe it was unfair. Maybe it was cruel... but wasn't he happier, not knowing about Marc? About Khonshu?

"Let's be real here, Steven. You weren't-- wrong about me messing things up for people. Ruining things. I mean, we're dead right now because of me. I just wanted to protect you from all of that."

"There's always room for more books! It's-- triangle-shaped. Corners are naturally harder to get to!" Steven defends himself. He meant to say it's a loft but hopefully Marc gets what he means.

Instead of foisting Marc's hand back at him, grumbling and putting some distance between them, Steven huffs as Marc uses everything he'd said in the heat of the moment against him and just nudges Marc's hand aside gently while he sits up, sliding his arms around his shins as he hugs his knees closer to his chest.

"That's not fair. You can't-- I didn't know. When I said those things." He can't say he didn't mean them at the time - that would be a blatant lie. But if he'd known everything, he wouldn't have said those things. They were really mean things to say to someone and Steven, despite his protestations, doesn't have a single mean bone in his body.

"I didn't need protecting. I'm-- supposed to protect you." Nevermind that Steven would have lost his shit if Marc had been honest about a few things from the get-go. They won't know now, since he never got the chance. How can he protect Marc anyway when Marc doesn't tell him anything?

He rolls his eyes, about to chide Steven for making excuses, but then he's moving.

He sighs when Steven pulls away. He doesn't chase after him though, gives him the space he wants. "I know you didn't know. Just-- makes it all more true, doesn't it?"

If Steven can see what he is without even knowing all the dirty bits of his past. And what does it say about him, when he can make Steven Grant say things like that? He isn't mean. He isn't cruel. It just means that Marc's the problem in this equation.

But that's okay. He's always known that.

He folds his now free arm over his own stomach as he watches Steven. "You've-- protected me a lot, Steven. You don't even realize."

It's just a little-- uncomfortable knowing he won't be able to check out ever now, not the way he was when they shared a body. It's unsettling that he'll have to deal with everything and not just shove it unfairly off on Steven when he needs a break. Daunting. Terrifying.

At least he's got him in other ways still. For now, anyway. "I feel safer with you than I do anybody else, Steven. It's not because you're a fighter or whatever. It's because you're just.. you."

"No, that's not how it-- d'you think I would have called mum and left her all those messages if I'd known she was such a horrible woman? It's just all a lie. And I said things I shouldn't have said because I thought you were trying to take my life away from me when I was taking yours away from you all along. I should've been there for you every time things got too hard or too painful - I should've validated everything you felt at her shiva, told you everything you should have heard all these years. Instead I just-- let you check out and-- and I was worried about getting home and feeding Gus and-- and all these things that aren't important. They aren't important, Marc. D'you understand? They're not-- They're real but they're not-- This body. This life. These-- feelings. They're all about you. You can't just--"

Oh, what's the point? It's too late now for any of that. Steven is getting worked up stressing out over a past that can't be changed. He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes, tired and upset and upset about being upset, if that's even possible. Like he doesn't want to die die like this. They should be doing happy things.

Steven feels like the shittiest split personality coping mechanism right now. Marc got the untainted, innocent, enthusiastic protector he wanted. Steven should be happy about it, knowing full well that, had he known the things about Marc that he knows now, he wouldn't have been able to be there for Marc in the capacity he is now. But it still makes him sad, and feel bloody useless.

"I know, you wanted this for me, and I want to keep you safe, but I feel responsible. For you shouldering all this, for me. D'you know how many times I sat there cooking up excuses in my head for mum's behaviour because the woman you put in my head couldn't have possibly done the kinds of things she did to you? D'you know awful that makes me feel? The drink destroyed her and-- And I look at you and your drinking and--" aaaaand Steven's crying.

"Hey-- those things were important. I know what-- Gus meant for you. Still feel shitty about that. Sorry." And now Gus II isn't going to see much of a better end. He pushes himself up slowly, reaching out to rest his hand back on Steven's back, rubbing carefully.

"Steven, you're-- real. All of this is real for you. I know how you were made, but you're real." This is stressing him out now, worry and guilt eating at him. He knew Steven wouldn't handle the truth well -- it's why he wanted to keep him away from it. He wanted him to be happy. He wanted him to be... normal and safe and alive. Hearing him like this, seeing him cry... it doesn't feel good.

He sits up a bit straighter and curls his arms around Steven, pulling him in closer again, against his chest. "You think-- I haven't been through all that? Wanting some sort of explanation that wasn't me being every thing she said I was? Something that'd mean she didn't just hate me?"

How many excuses had he come up with?

That she was mentally ill, that she was a drunk, that she was anything but a hateful horrible woman and he was more than a curse on everyone around him. If he could have been a better son, if he hadn't been so-- fucking stupid and gotten Randall killed. He still should have known. He should have known. Being a kid isn't an excuse, even if it's unfair. He fails at protecting everything he loves. His brother, Steven, Layla...

"I'm sorry," he offers after a moment, even if what he wants to do is plug his ears up and tell Steven to shut up, don't-- compare him to her, even if he knows it's not that much different. That he's not that much different. Oh, he could be a monster. He has been. He has been. Maybe worse. She'd beaten him and hated him and made sure he knew just how terrible he was every day of his life, but--

How much blood is on his hands now? He's not-- he can't ever be clean from that. Maybe they all deserved it, but fuck if it doesn't destroy a little bit of you every time you take a life and how can anyone else think otherwise? It's not easy. Maybe it would have been better, if he'd died a long time ago... if Khonshu hadn't kept making him nice and healed and ready for the next job. "I got it-- I'll get it under control, alright?"

How shitty is it that he can't even be sure that's a promise he can keep. He tucks his head in against Steven, squeezes his eyes shut as he just-- tries to breathe. Just keep breathing, even if all of this is stuff he doesn't want to touch on or acknowledge. Maybe he's just ashamed and figures Steven will realize the man who created him isn't worth all of this. He isn't worth trying to love or protect.

"You don't know-- you don't know and I didn't want you to know. I don't want you to know-- I can't just stop. I can't. If I don't drink, if I don't find something to take the edge off sometimes, man. I can't sleep. I can't-- do this. How am I supposed to live with myself, Steven?"

And now-- he's dead, but he's still here. There's no peaceful nothingness. He still exists. He'd always wanted to die because he thought it'd be a break, but no. Turns out just the same old shit. He still has to deal with himself. He gets Steven though and that's. More than he thought he'd ever get. Except now he feels sore and open and vulnerable and like he's-- really shit at doing the one thing he keeps promising to do still. He's not keeping Steven safe. "Don't cry, c'mon. Stop it."

He turns his head to press a kiss to the top of Steven's head. "I just-- I wanted to. You got all the good things and I wanted you to. I didn't want you to remember what Mom did. You're not responsible, Steven. You're-- something she couldn't take away from me. You're mine and I-- loved you. I love you."

Fuck, he's going to regret saying all of this. Just like he regrets all the shit at the psych ward. It goes against every instinct to just shut everything down, keep it all bottled up because he has no idea what'll happen if he lets it all out. This is more than he's said to anyone. to Khonshu, to Layla... "So just stop, man. Alright? Stop feeling bad for this shit. It's not your fault. You let me hide when I needed to. You don't know how much I needed to and you were there and I got to be-- happy seeing you happy, just a little bit."

Edited 2022-06-02 16:56 (UTC)

Well at least Marc won't regret not taking that shower first. Once he moves in to give Steven a hug, the floodgates open and the tears just come freely. Steven doesn't do the manly sort of reserved few tears and excuse himself to compose himself, even though his sobbing might be a little bit muffled against Marc's chest. He'll feel better once he's done but it might be at the expense of making Marc feel worse. Even though stupid gaslighting brick walls shouldn't really feel anything.

He's more tired and hopeless than he is angry, in the end. He can't save Marc from himself like this, when he's on the outside, when Marc can't retreat into himself when things get to be too much and know that Steven's got it, that he doesn't have to worry about anything else while he tries to deal. At least Marc might feel compelled to look after himself a bit if he's got Steven freeloading off of him, but right now he's got no reason for self-preservation anymore. Maybe Steven can offer a different sort of comfort and reassurance from the outside, but right now Steven is the one who's breaking and needing to be held together.

Is it a little bit weird to hear that Marc has loved him? Maybe. It didn't feel weird when he told Marc the same, but it's different, innit? Steven is very open about these things, about how he feels, about how other people make him feel. Marc wouldn't have cooked someone up who absolutely hated him. That was no escape from his reality at all. He wasn't really expecting Marc to like him back though. Even if Marc seems to be able to tolerate all the quirks that everyone else finds really annoying, and he's very patient with Steven, and he lets him have his frustrated and emotional outbursts without putting him down or walking away.

The least he can do is try to make Marc slightly less uncomfortable by turning down the waterworks display. There'll be ample opportunity to sit and cry alone in bed and feel better about everything when Marc's gone out to-- hit the bottle again or wherever he wants to go. Steven mumbles an apology but it's easily lost in the sobbing and whimpering as he tries to rub his eyes again, scooch up a little closer to Marc.

He turns so that he's leaning against Marc's chest, unruly head of hair tickling his neck as he keeps his legs tucked in close, hands wringing as he slowly processes everything Marc has said. It's usually the other way around, where he's blubbering and blabbering and Marc stays quiet. But he hates that they're arguing and fighting and he's just not able to make a breakthrough with Marc even though they're already dead. He hates that Marc's just-- giving way even though he shouldn't. Sniffling a few times, Steven wrings his hands and holds himself for a little bit, not wanting to make Marc feel even more put out.

This is why he doesn't talk. He doesn't feel better after. He just feels like-- he's just shown more of how broken he is, how messed up he is and far beyond saving, maybe. It doesn't help that this has-- all been so much. The mental ward, the Field of Reeds, this boat... Hell, even before all this. He's not sure how much more he can take without finally snapping.

He'd been ready to give up paradise to go die with Steven in the sands.

He didn't get that. Now they're on a boat that Marc doesn't trust at all and Steven's-- outside of him still. Which is great, in a way, and bad in others. It's going to be harder to protect him like this, but at least Steven gets a life of his own.

Or maybe-- maybe it'd be better if he wasn't around at all. Maybe if he'd disappeared like he'd promised.

He's not sure why Steven would be surprised that Marc loves him though. Why would his mind have come up with something he'd hate? And why would Marc have done everything he's done, right down to trying to find a one-finned fish, to protect Steven if he didn't love him? Maybe he's messed up, a lot, but... loving Steven has never been a question to him. It's just something that's been there since the day he came to Marc, became that security he'd lacked growing up.

There's a tired breath that leaves him as he loosens his arms a bit, giving Steven room to move if he wants. He does at least slip his hand up to brush through his hair, even if it's hopeless trying to tame it.

He-- doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to upset Steven more and honestly, he doesn't want to get into it. If Steven wants him to drink less, he'll-- try. Or at least do it when he's not paying attention. He just needs... some time, too. Some time to feel like he's got his feet on the ground, like he's got an idea of what they're doing with the rest of their lives.

He thinks about excusing himself to the shower, but he doesn't want to give Steven the wrong impression either. He doesn't want him to think he's trying to avoid him or that he's necessarily angry with him. Whatever conclusions Steven might jump to in that head of his. So for now, he's just quiet. He just pets through Steven's hair, half to comfort him, half because it calms his nerves a little bit too, just knowing Steven's there.

Steven is almost half asleep by the time he's calmed down considerably. Marc's gentle, light touches only serve to remind him of how nobody really touches him, how nice and comforting it feels when someone's willing to.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Steven sniffles and rubs his eyes again. They're supposed to profess their love for each other at their date, not here. Everything's done backwards, it's all wrong. Has Marc even been on a date before?

"...hope you're wearing something nice to our date," Steven points out, even though he's not got anything to wear either. Even imaginary friends have standards and expectations you know?

He's almost done using Marc as a comforter, as evidenced by how he's starting to wring his hands again, but he might need a box of tissues to get through the rest of the day. Maybe he'll find a quiet spot in the library, make himself feel better buried in a book. It's really hard being around Marc, much as they love each other.

"Yeah? Don't worry. I'll put on my best." ... When he finds it, that is. It's not like he's got any more clothes here than Steven, but there's gotta be some place that has something nice, right?

... Seems a little messed up, to still be talking dates, but here they are. "You better dress to impress too, man. Just saying."

He's kind of curious what Steven would decide is impressive, honestly. Especially on board this cruise with its weird Tommy Bahama that never ends.

"Better go grab a shower first, I guess."

Mr Knight's suit is impressive. He's wary of Marc with his psycho Colonel Sanders comment though. Maybe he thinks it isn't cool. Steven will have to find something else to wear.

"Yeah. Alright." He reluctantly moves off of Marc. He suddenly feels cold, and tired. It's just all a bit much, and Marc doesn't really want to talk, and Steven feels further from Marc than he's ever been. Maybe he could never tell what Marc was thinking while he was inside him, but it was easier to force things out of him before. Now he'll have to figure out some new tactics. He doubts anything would be as effective as before.

He shifts to his side of the bed, pulling the covers up into his lap, putting on a brave face even though he knows that as soon as Marc steps into the shower he will just burst into tears again. At least he thinks he'll get most of the upset out in time to still have a sombre, cute little dinner.

He's not expecting Mr. Knight showing up t a dinner date, even if he might not have hated it as much as he acted. He's not even sure he knows what to expect on this ship, or what to wear. He feels a little stupid, actually putting much thought into it, but... it's easier to think about that than the other stuff.

He moves to slip out of bed, pausing to look back at Steven for a moment. Are they really okay? It doesn't feel like it. It feels like he just let Steven down again and there's no way to deal with the frustration that comes from that in any way that won't upset him even more.

Maybe dinner will make it up to him.

He does pause before he goes to the bathroom, reaching out to muss the other man's hair a little. "I'll be out in a little bit, alright?"

Maybe he'll feel half-way human again, after the hottest shower he's able to stand and cleaning himself up a bit. Then maybe he'll go out for some clothes and hope-- dinner's a little bit better with Steven.

"I'll save you some water if you wanna clean up. Gonna guess there's no sharing before the first date." Easier to get Steven flustered a bit, right? Get him focused on something else.

Steven nods numbly, making a soft noise and ducking his head as Marc somehow messes his hair up even more than it already is.

"I'm not getting in the shower with you, have you-- perving at my bits." Nevermind that they're actually Marc's bits. The longer they stay split apart like this, the more their bodies are going to change. Steven doesn't have Marc's workout routines and Marc isn't vegan.

"You're such an animal," Steven mutters, clutching onto his invisible pearl-laden blanket, giving Marc a shifty, dirty look. Clearly Steven is fine with cuddling and spooning and having sad talks but there's a line they can't cross fondling in a crammed little shower.

"Sorry, buddy... we shared those bits for a very long time, you know." He's 'perved at them' before, not really being the virginal sort. But he figures with that dirty look and complaint, Steven doesn't really want to hear about that or wouldn't trust Marc to keep his hands to himself anyway. Maybe he'd be right, considering their sleeping arrangement.

He just holds his hands up at the insult in a pacifying gesture before he steps into the bathroom and gets the water going. He'll make it quick, as promised, and even come out fully dressed and ready for the rest of the day... only a little reluctantly so.

There's quiet little weird noises while Marc is in the shower. Steven looks like he had been stung by wasps when Marc emerges. But he'll adamantly deny that he's been crying. He's fine. He promises he'll feel better once he's had a chance to wash up, and there's no sobbing noises in the shower or bent over the sink. By the time he slips on his comfy long sleeve shirt and pants, Steven can manage a small smile as he shuffles out of the toilet, rubbing his arm, damp curls tumbling down his forehead.

"I need to find clothes for tonight." And some other things to keep him sane in this too-sterile room. He's at home with Marc but a few books wouldn't hurt. Just a few, not a tower. Maybe a small stash of packaged snacks so Marc doesn't drink without eating anything, and some basic supplies like cup noodles so that they can spend a day or two inside their cabin if need be. They might get cabin fever but at least Marc might appreciate that they're prepared for a-- whatever. Zombie outbreak on the cruiseship.

"And you-- probably don't want me following you around everywhere." Especially if Marc's going back to the watering hole. If Steven can't stop him then... he doesn't really want to know about it, honestly. "I'll see you at the restaurant?"

Yeah, no. Marc doesn't buy the whole he hasn't been sobbing excuse for a second. But-- pushing isn't gonna help and if Steven needs some time to himself, well... Marc's not gonna deny him that.

"I don't-- mind." If he's with him. Marc isn't the one that's ever wanted Steven out of his life, or out of his head. But he also doesn't want to deny Steven the chance to live for however long they're able to here. He deserves the independence.

"But yeah, sure. I gotta pick some stuff up too." Steven doesn't have to worry-- Marc's thinking along the same lines, anyway. This place is going to drive Steven crazy, empty as it is, and he saw some... at least trashy, cheap paperbacks down at one of the shops. They're not gonna be masterpieces, but he'll grab some he thinks Steven might enjoy... or might just sit and judge his taste for. Whatever. Steven will probably find a tiny stack left on his side of the bed whenever they're back home tonight.

He's not even going to drink and show up messy and drunk to the restaurant. He can try to give Steven-- at least some of what he wants. Which means less drinking, apparently. He will, however, show up in the nicest Tommy Bahama shirt in navy that he can find and a pair of slacks with meticulously styled hair and not reeking even a bit of alcohol.

Steven probably shouldn't have gone out on his own. He did manage to do the things he'd set out to do, and Marc would have seen a few items trickle into their room, but he also got into all sorts of trouble and he didn't have Marc he could ask for advice. Even though Marc would have likely kept him from talking to new people.

Steven got to the restaurant first. He's wearing a maroon Tommy Bahama half zip sweater and beige chinos. It's not what he'd normally wear but separately he might be caught in the sweater, or who knows, maybe this will end up in Marc's closet. His hair is the usual curly mess but he did try. It doesn't look anything like Marc's though and something in his stomach turns as he watches in mild awe when Marc takes a seat opposite from him.

"You clean up well," Steven quips, managing a small, slightly nervous smile. He doesn't even know why he's got nerves. Marc is just indulging him on a play date.

There's a small snort as Marc settles in, managing a smile. He had some-- interesting conversations, himself. Nothing that left him particularly feeling easy about their current adventure. But-- date night and all. He'll wait until later to dump all his worries on Steven.

For now, he just gives a shrug of his shoulders. "So do you."

Although he still wonders how Steven always manages to keep that mess of curls, no matter what. It-- suits him. Is it weird to appreciate a guy who's essentially him like this? Maybe. But Marc is thoroughly used to weird.

"So, how'd your day out go, Steven?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. I ticked everyone off," he says with a self-deprecating little laugh. He even managed to piss off a robot somehow. A bloody robot that probably doesn't have the whole gamut of emotions programmed in or whatever. Marc really needn't worry that anyone will steal Steven away from him or anything. Steven struggles so much just to befriend anyone. Marc can have him all to himself and everyone on the ship would gladly be rid of him.

"I ran away to hide inside the library and even there I managed to annoy people. Then I caught myself talking to you. I think I showed you half the library before I remembered you're not inside me anymore."

"What-- how?" But you know what-- he's had some not ideal run-ins himself. But then, he's used to being the asshole, generally. He hasn't really been trying. HE feels... kinda bad for Steven though. He's a social guy. He-- wants people around him.

... Also, man. That's just sad, buddy. Marc's expression twitches a little, but he tries to let it not go too sad at the thought. "Yeah. I know the feeling. Kept trying to talk to you and nothing. Not used to that-- sort of quiet."

Strange how quickly they got used to talking to each other like this, right? When living separate lives shouldn't be so hard for Steven, but...

"Tell you what, show me the library tomorrow. I, uh... got you some stuff from one of the shops. It's not what you read back home, but thought you might want a few books around the cabin for when you don't want to sleep."

Or just because.

Steven shrugs. "It's my superpower I guess," he grumbles with a sigh, lowering his gaze. "I just-- it was nice to have you for a while." He had Gus to talk to. And he had mum's voicemail. Crawley was a good sounding board too. And then he had Marc. And Layla then came into his life, too. But Gus is dead. And mum was a monster. He won't walk that same path to meet Crawley anymore, without his job. And Marc is sitting there, on the outside. And Layla was never Steven's to have.

He's on a cruiseship full of people. They're forced to live together, in a way. But Steven has never felt more alone in his life.

"Yeah? Yeah I'd-- like that. I'll take a look tonight, thanks. Brought back some-- emergency supplies, myself." Anyway. Who needs friends when you can live vicariously through trashy novels? Give him a few days and he'll be comfortable sitting alone in bed devouring all the books he can get his hands on.

"I think that's how everyone lives, Marc. In silence." It's supposed to be peaceful, not. Aggravating or isolating.

"Well. Anyway. Maybe it's good practice for you, y'know. For when you get better." Steven manages a brave little smile and nods. He doesn't need Steven to tell him that he's not well.

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